DEAR LADY ARWING OF GONDOR
Dear Arwing,
Another day, another letter.
I told you next time I would be writing from Rohan, and I was right! Well, almost... We are not quite to Rohan yet, having only set out yesterday and traveling very slowly.
Huinlas is staying behind with his father, of course. I knew he would, but I am still sad. I do enjoy his company; he is so pleasant to be around. You would like him very much. He helped me pack my horse for the trip, which was no simple task considering Hwesta's temperament. She, of course, was rude and pushy, but the elf was helpful and calmed her somewhat.
Father is not traveling with us, but stayed home. He said he had business to look into and take care of while we are away. I can't imagine what he means, and hope it does not include him marching to another war. I'm sure you understand this, Arwing.
Théodwyn rides with me on Hwesta since she is too small to be trusted alone on a horse. Mother says in two years, when she is five, she may have her own pony, but Father doesn't seem to be so compliant to this proposition. Mother, being one of the Eorlingas, was practically raised on horseback and sees nothing wrong with giving her youngest daughter riding lessons even now.
Today we will join the Great West Road leading to Rohan and eventually to Edoras. Mother says it skirts the northern bank of the Ered Nimras, and that if we look carefully we will see the beacons on the mountain tops. Boromir and Barahir have been bemoaning that the beacons will not be lit, for they say from Father's tales it is quite a sight to see. I, however, though I like fascinating scenery, am thankful they will not be lit, for as you know a lit beacon means war. For my brothers war means excitement and valour, for me it means pain and grief and being forced to face extremes of emotion and endurance that otherwise need not be experienced.
I am sorry this letter is shorter than in previous times, but I must end now because Mother wants to be moving again. The horses are restless.
Mellonlín,
Silwen of Ithilien
Dear Arwing,
Another day, another letter.
I told you next time I would be writing from Rohan, and I was right! Well, almost... We are not quite to Rohan yet, having only set out yesterday and traveling very slowly.
Huinlas is staying behind with his father, of course. I knew he would, but I am still sad. I do enjoy his company; he is so pleasant to be around. You would like him very much. He helped me pack my horse for the trip, which was no simple task considering Hwesta's temperament. She, of course, was rude and pushy, but the elf was helpful and calmed her somewhat.
Father is not traveling with us, but stayed home. He said he had business to look into and take care of while we are away. I can't imagine what he means, and hope it does not include him marching to another war. I'm sure you understand this, Arwing.
Théodwyn rides with me on Hwesta since she is too small to be trusted alone on a horse. Mother says in two years, when she is five, she may have her own pony, but Father doesn't seem to be so compliant to this proposition. Mother, being one of the Eorlingas, was practically raised on horseback and sees nothing wrong with giving her youngest daughter riding lessons even now.
Today we will join the Great West Road leading to Rohan and eventually to Edoras. Mother says it skirts the northern bank of the Ered Nimras, and that if we look carefully we will see the beacons on the mountain tops. Boromir and Barahir have been bemoaning that the beacons will not be lit, for they say from Father's tales it is quite a sight to see. I, however, though I like fascinating scenery, am thankful they will not be lit, for as you know a lit beacon means war. For my brothers war means excitement and valour, for me it means pain and grief and being forced to face extremes of emotion and endurance that otherwise need not be experienced.
I am sorry this letter is shorter than in previous times, but I must end now because Mother wants to be moving again. The horses are restless.
Mellonlín,
Silwen of Ithilien